


A Drink for the Past

by AL_Alexander



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drinking, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, I write a lotta angst kids, Just angst, M/M, There is no fluff, Yea jack's kinda fucked up in this fic, tags to be changed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-27 07:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14420640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AL_Alexander/pseuds/AL_Alexander
Summary: It’d been years since he’d been sober.Sure, no one noticed it, mainly because of his healing and whatever the SEP did to him. But he still drank constantly. Whenever he could, he was smoking. He’d forgotten when he wasn’t drunk or stoned out of his mind, or at least, filling his lungs with a noxious cloud that threatened to choke him every time he breathed it down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, hi peeps, been a while.  
> Yea this fic is... DARK. I think I have an addiction to writing angst and pain.  
> So yea, this fic will update, but who knows what the schedule is gonna be.

It’d been years since he’d been sober.

Sure, no one noticed it, mainly because of his healing and whatever the SEP did to him. But he still drank constantly. Whenever he could, he was smoking. He’d forgotten when he wasn’t drunk or stoned out of his mind, or at least, filling his lungs with a noxious cloud that threatened to choke him every time he breathed it down.

Everyone else he’d seen who’d been a fraction as bad as he at least learned to… mitigate it. Cowboy only drank so often, but still smoked like a chimney. The eldest of the Super Dragon Bros drank a lot, but that was usually at night, and when he knew he didn’t have a mission. Everyone else was… disturbingly clean.

Not him, though.

Not for a while.

Not since…

Jack slammed back another shot in another sleazy bar and hoped that the images that still fucking flashed in his brain would go away. Only way they really would, he admitted to himself. It felt like hell, trying to forget. He didn’t want to remember even his own name. And it was getting harder and harder to get his alcohol or drugs because Angela was super good at finding them. It pissed him off.

He ordered another drink and took it down just as quick as its predecessor, staring at the empty remains after. Like a corpse, a hollow shell he should’ve seen coming, that he-

Don’t.

Don’t go down that line of thinking. You remember what happened last time.

He ran his fingers under his jacket sleeves, feeling the too many to count scars littering his wrists and forearms. He remembered when he’d first started, he was eleven, maybe twelve, and his father had just told him that there wasn’t room for anyone who “wanted to be gay”. It had started the cycle of self hatred early on.

The SEP was supposed to kill him. At least, that’s why he went in. At least if he’d died, he would’ve died a “hero”, having gone through a dangerous program to “help humankind”. Or on the battlefield.

But no, against all odds, this drunk, druggie, asshole eighteen year old had survived, and passed. With flying colors.

Jack hated it. Still. To this day.

Another shot made it’s way down his gullet. He hated his brain.

The bell above the door rang, a noise too high and sharp for his ears. He whipped a glare to the new person, and nearly dropped the shot glass he was holding.

Sure, he was wearing a hoodie and a mask, but his stance, how he walked, how he looked around the room, Jack  _ knew _ who it was. Which pissed him off more. More than when he found out the fucker was  _ alive _ .

Gabriel Reyes sat down and pretended he didn’t notice that the white haired man in an old army jacket wasn’t the man he’d sought to destroy.

And won.

Many years ago.

The bartender went over to the other man and they started talking. Jack looked back down at the glass in his hand, debating what he should do. If he had another ten, he would be absolutely shitfaced. Drunk enough to not have a filter and not be blamed for being himself, but not enough to be blackout. Though, he was close. He had to leave, though. The idea of being near  _ him _ made him want to vomit.

He stood, and nearly collapsed. Ok, maybe he’d had more than he’d thought. Thank God the bar was there. His stomach shuddered, threatening him with vomiting everywhere. He willed it down.

He sat there like an idiot for almost a full two minutes before an arm wrapped around him and hauled him up. “Oh no you don’t.”

He barely noticed who had him. He guessed after he moved, it got worse. Whoever did have him slowly dragged him outside, and to the nearest alley, in which, he doubled over, and vomited. Everywhere.

He spat out what remained in his mouth before looking up, eyes squinted.

Gabriel Reyes did  _ not _ look impressed. “Jack.”

“Been dead,” he replied within seconds. Jack Morrison has been dead. For nearly five years now. He was thankful for that. Reyes didn’t seem to find the humor.

“No, because you’re right here. What’re you doing in a seedy Dorado bar at o-one-hundred, Morrison?” The Latino man crossed his arms and looked down, either like a scolding mother, or tired friend. Either one made him gag.

“What’s it look like.”

Reyes shrugged. “Like you’re drinking like you’re trying to forget.”

“Then that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Jack forced himself to stand up, but quickly staggered against the nearest wall. Damn, his head hurt, his mouth tasted of death, and he just wanted to lay down and die. Hands gripped his arms, but he brushed them away harshly. “I’m fine!” He barked, the sound echoing and making him flinch in the near silent night air.

Reyes raised an eyebrow. “Morrison, you are literally unable to walk. You doing anything right now will probably end in you killing yourself.”

“Thank God,” he muttered, not really caring if Reyes heard it. The hands tried to return, but he made a point to move away and curl in on himself. “I’m fine!”

“Jack, you are literally grey right now. I get to get away with it because I can’t eat enough to get my cells to chill.”

The words flew over Jack’s head. He could feel himself blacking out, which wasn’t the best feeling in the world, especially because he wasn’t home. Well, “home” was a loose term. It was a decaying apartment with a decaying mattress with a thin, decaying sheet. No one lived there anymore, not for a long while. Not even any one who was desperate for shelter.

“The glowing eyed demon lives there,” he’d heard whispers, “don’t go, or he’ll shoot you with his fire.”

Not that he cared. He liked being alone now anyways. Forgot how to deal with people. Which was fine by him. He didn’t realize he’d sunk so far against the wall until Reyes was holding him up again.

“Alright, idiota, let’s get you home. Where do you live?”

Jack didn’t know the actual address, so he started to walk home, leaning against Reyes the entire way.

It took maybe thirty minutes until they came to the falling down stairs that lead to where he lived. Internally, he wanted to cry. He missed being in a bed with someone, having a bed, having a place that didn’t smell of death and like a coffin. But, he couldn’t dwell on the memories of a dead man. He shouldn’t even consider himself that person anymore. The explosion had done massive damage to him.

“Thanks,” he slurred, pushing himself off the Talon agent. He ignored whatever Reyes said behind him, and slowly trugged up the stairs, and somehow managed to drag himself to his door. Which was the only thing that still remained in tact. He pushed it open, more with his weight than anything, and stumbled inside. He kicked it closed and took two steps before collapsing onto his “matress”. Sleep wouldn’t come, it never did. He’d have to crawl to the stash he had of NyQuil and drown himself in that to sleep.

He laid there for a while, not doing anything but disassociating hard. Which was a pleasant experience for him. Because he felt his head become static, his limbs seemed to float away, and he could actually  _ forget _ for once. Instead of the pain he suffered, he could just… be. It was nice.

The door creaked open, and he only had enough energy to realize that yes, it was now open, and there was a shadow on his floor.

There was a soft, “Christ,” at the door before the shadow turned away, still leaving his door open. He heard Reyes go down to the first level, at which case, he said fuck it, and crawled around the island (these had to have been nice apartments at some point), and opened a cabinet door. Inside was plenty of items, but he pulled out the NyQuil. He stared at the cap for a moment before shrugging. Maybe tonight, he’d finally drug himself to death.

He pulled the cap off and chugged what remained, which was half the bottle. He let himself rest heavily against the doors of the cabinets, praying he’d fall asleep soon. He didn’t care, at this point. But in the end, he decided against it and dragged himself back to his “bed”. At least be vaguely comfortable dying, right?

A few moments later, he heard a car pull up, turn off, and doors on it open and close. Quick conversations, and then footsteps. More than what Reyes could make. So he called company. Couldn’t bring himself to make it an honorable death.

Four shadows appeared in the door. The hacker girl from Talon was the first to step in, and the first to notice him. She crouched down, and waved in front of his eyes. “ ¿Hola?” Reyes stepped in next, than the sniper, than an old member of Blackwatch. He couldn’t remember any of their names, but Reyes’. But then again, the man had destroyed him the most.

“My, my, Gabriel, look at the weakened bird you found yourself,” the sniper sneered, joining the hacker at crouching in front of him.

Reyes was watching intensely, obviously worried.

The medic, if he remembered correctly, looked around, wrinkles in her face deepening as she kept going. She moved into what remained of the kitchen, and picked up the discarded med bottle and sneered, setting it down on the island countertop. After a second, she walked over, gently shooing the other two away. She grabbed his arm and felt his pulse.

“I thought you were a geneticist?” The hacker teased.

“I am. But knowing how to keep people alive can be useful,” came the brisk, snappy reply. After a couple of seconds, she released his hand and stood up quickly, giving him a dizzy spell just from watching it. “Pick up him up, Reyes, we need to go.”

“Wha’, no…!” Jack whined, slurring heavily. Distantly, he realized like what a child he must sound like, but he didn’t care.

Reyes ignored him and easily lifted him up, barely grunting with the strain. He quickly made his way outside and waited beside the car. The other three joined them soon after. Reyes raised an eyebrow at the lack of items in their hands. Other than his weapons, some ammunition, and his clothes, there was nothing. “What, no personal items?”

“Other than that excuse for mattress? Nothing,” the hacker said, sounding shocked in her own, disgustingly chipper way.

Jack really wanted to punch her or something, but he couldn’t be bothered.

The medic looked at the sniper, and nodded to the driver’s seat. “You drive. I’ll need to be in the back with Reaper.”

The sniper raised an eyebrow. “What, why?”

The medic rolled her eyes. “Idiot drank half a bottle of sleeping medication, on top of whatever amount he had at the bar.” She quickly opened the door that Reyes was waiting at before going to the other side and getting in.

The sniper accepted the reason and got in as well.

He didn’t really care what the hacker did, only that he was quickly set inside as well and pressed tightly up against Reyes’ chest.

“Think you can get his jacket off?” The medic asked, voice even and distant. She was focusing on something.

“Easily.”

At that, he flailed. “NO! No, nononononononono!”

“Jesus Christ!”

“Hold him!”

“I’m trying, damnit!”

Reyes was successful in holding his arms while the medic seemingly sedated his legs.

“Please don’t, don’t wanna see it, please no, please,” he begged and babbled, pleading for them to not take it off.

The car started, and they were off, causing him to panic again.

“Oh mon Dieu, can you not?!” The sniper yelled at him, loud enough that it echoed around the car. He flinched, curling in on himself and feeling himself about to cry. She ran her fingers through her hair, muttering an annoyed, “Thank you!” She started to drive, and Jack, too scared to upset her again, let his jacket be taken off.

“Puta madre…” The hacker whispered, while Reyes and the medic went silent. He knew what they were looking at, and he wished they would stop. So he voiced this.

“Please stop staring.”

Thankfully, the medic seemed to take him up and flipped his arm over, getting his veins to the surface before inserting a needle. She took some blood, obviously testing different ratings. She whistled.

“What?” Reyes asked from above his head.

Jack wasn’t sure where they were, he’d closed his eyes, hoping this was all some sort of horrid nightmare.

“He’s… well, to be honest, I’m surprised he’s even alive.”

“Cut the bullshit, Moira, what does that mean.”

Moira (that was her name) gave Reyes an unimpressed look. “It means that he’s basically so full of alcohol and sleep medicine that his heart’s slowly stopping. So I’d suggest we somehow contact Overwatch right now.”

“What, can’t Talon heal him?” The sniper asked.

“No, our tech’s shit compared to them,” the hacker replied, screens up and already looking into contacting his “side” it seemed. “I can open a comm channel, but it’s a gamble to if they’re gonna listen.”

“We’ve gotta at least try,” Reyes said.

The hacker shrugged before clicking a button.

Short bursts of rings echoed through the car, hurting his ears. He tried to cover them, but Moira had a hand firmly in her grasp. Thankfully, Reyes seemed to understand, and covered the ear he couldn’t.

The call went through.

“Sombra,” the gruff voice of Winston greeted angrily. “What is the pleasure we have of you calling us.”

“Hola, el gorila. You wouldn’t believe who Reaper ran into on his nightly walk.”

“Sombra…”

“Play along with me just this once, yea?”

“Urgh, fine. Who?”

“Oh, just your friendly neighborhood soldier. Drunk off his ass.”

He could feel Winston’s eyebrows raise. “What?”

“Yea, and the maldito idiota drank half a bottle of NyQuil!”

The gorilla on the other side groaned heavily. “What do you want?”

“We just want to keep him alive,” Moira responded, to which Sombra moved the face cam over to the backseat. It was too bright, so Jack tried to roll over. Neither let him move, but Reyes did cover his eyes for him, so that was nice.

“Christ…”

“You’re telling me, monkey,” Reyes sighed.

Sombra moved the video call away. “So, we got a deal?”

“And you want nothing out of this?”

“That… remains to be seen. I’m sure we can work something out once we know he’s going to survive.”

He could hear Winston set his jaw in annoyance, but the deep sigh that came after said this jig, or one similar, had been done before. “Fine. We’ll send a ship to a dock nearby.”

“Thanks furball, you know we love you!” Sombra sang, the gorilla simply sighing before she signed off. She sat back, smiling. “Well, I guess we’re headed to the coast.” She whistled quietly, “Oi, Widow!” following soon after.

“What, Sombra?”

“We’re headed to this place. Go to it.”

Widow stared at the location before sighing heavily and accepting fate. A quick turn and then it was straight on, Jack guessed.

It was silent in the car as they drove. Jack enjoyed it, and pressed himself tighter against Reyes’ chest. He should probably leave once they get there, run. Overwatch didn’t know until now. He was careful to not show his… self destructive tendencies with anyone. It was simple luck or coincidence or something that Reyes happened to be there. In any case, he didn’t really want some of the younger members to see him like this, but that was… probably too late. He was fucked. They’d probably put him into rehab. Fuck.

He remembered the last person he saw come out of rehab. Some of them did well, obviously, but others… He remembered one guy who ended up overdosing in a den. And how horrifying that’d been. He remembered how lucky he felt to have not gone down those drugs, but he stayed away from large populations. People always brought him trouble. Like Overwatch. And Talon. And Blackwatch. And the UN. And just humans in general.

It took a couple of hours, but they finally arrived at the coast. And already, he could see the disappointed faces of some of his “normal” team. And he had already made a couple of escape plans. Around six. And he waited. Moira had released his arm not too long ago, and from what he could listen to (as Reyes kept his ears covered), it seemed they would just drop him off with Overwatch. So he waited. He could figure out Sombra’s teleporter, and guessed that she probably have dozens stashed around the world for easy… use.

The car stopped. Reyes lifted him up. With a heavy breath, Jack waited. Sombra came a second too close, and…

His brain never  _ really _ caught up to his body, but he had managed to grab Sombra’s teleporter, kicked Reyes down (the fact he’d done it to a mountain of a man still astounded both sober and drunk him), and flee, activating it to a random local on accident.

However, landing up on the floor in an apartment somewhere wasn’t the least of his worries. He checked himself, sighing with relief (and a little vomit) to see that he was all in one piece. Other than feeling super sick to his stomach, he was… fine. It’d worked. He cheered softly to himself before turning and vomiting whatever remained in his stomach. That sucked. And he realized that all of his gear was left with his enemies, both Overwatch and Talon alike.

… Fuck.

His cheer quickly dead, he stood up on wobbling legs and managed to make it out the apartment and down the stairs, rushing into the night.

If they ever found him, it’d be a miracle. Or, so he hoped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's hiding again, and Gabriel has a good long talk with the members of Blackwatch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this chapter is very exposition heavy. I'm still not sure if I like the first chapter fully after writing this one, but hey, the writing can only go up from here!

He ran.

And ran.

And ran.

And ran more.

Even when his feet started to ache, he ran.

Even when his hips and knees and ankles begged for him to stop, he ran.

Even when he’d vomited nearly six more times, he ran.

Until he collapsed on a tree at the edge of the town. Gasping for air and barely getting it down. He prayed that he was alone. They hadn’t followed him. They couldn't've. He knew it.

He allowed himself to lay against the rough wood, and rest. Only to rest. He wouldn’t sleep, he said to himself. He couldn’t.

He lied.

 

It was plagued with the worst of his nightmares. The one memory that made him want to die time and time again.

The explosion. That should’ve killed him. That he wished had killed him.

“Morrison!”

He’d turned, and in the dream, it felt like a million years passed before he saw the image of Reyes, snarling and his eyes too bright with rage.

Reyes’ lips moved, he ripped the beanie off, slammed it on the ground, roared accusations against him, but no noise came out. Not this time.

Except one thing

“I’ll kill you!”

And then he lunged. The fight seemed to last milliseconds, with way too many pieces missing. And then the deep, chest rattling boom from below them. And then the collapse.

The feeling of his face being sliced up, the blood running rivers down his nose and into his eyes. It was way too much than what was actually spilled, and he swore he could see an actual river coming from him. And his legs.

His legs, God his legs. Trapped under rubble. Trying to pull himself out before accepting he’d have to cut them off. And then spotting the hand, poking out and gripping the stone hard enough it broke.

He crawled over to where Gabriel was, and held him as he died. But instead of sitting still, he fought. Kept screaming that it was Jack’s fault. And then he shifted. Into Reaper. And the gun came to his head and-

 

Jack woke with a start, realizing he was screaming. Quickly putting a hand over his mouth, he heard the cut out sound echo through the town. He took in deep breaths as if he would never again. He truly believed he’d eternally have nightmares about that day. And this one was a new, more horrific take on it. It was probably the worst yet.

He roughly wiped his face, and laid back for a second, willing himself not to cry. He couldn’t. Not now.

He stood, shakily, using the tree for balance before he stumbled down the hill, falling a couple of times. He nearly smashed his head on a rock. After a few falls, he found himself at the bottom of the hill, dirty and tired. He stood, feeling his left knee threaten to give out, before limping to wherever the nearest bar was.

It happened to be very close by, and after shaking his hair out and dusting himself off, he looked as if he’d just been working all day. He looked at his ruined jacket, before shaking his head and throwing it into the garbage nearby. He opened the door and listened to the doorbell ring.

The single waitress came up, giving a look that wasn’t entirely profreshional. “Do you need something, sir?” She asked, her English heavily accented. She put a hand on his arm, way too lightly. Jack hadn’t the care to figure out her accent, nor her flirting. In his subconscious, he was still married, thank you very much.

“Uh, yea. Food. Lots of it.”

“Oh, well, come right on in!” She lead him to a small booth in the back, grabbing him a menu and then leaving him in peace.

He took in a deep breath, tugged at his hair, and looked through the menu. A lot of Tex-Mex, which entertained him. But it didn’t matter, it was greasy and would help him a lot, both by getting rid of whatever alcohol remained in his system, and making sure he would survive the night. He called her over, ordered literally half of what was on the menu, and ate like he was dying.

It cost about 100 USD. He was running low on cash, but he still paid, and gave a tip.

He wondered his way out onto the street, looking for a small hole or something he could shove himself in to sleep. It took him over an hour, but he found something that’d work.

It was literally a hole in a wall, and inside was an abandoned closet. He could tell bc the door was bricked up. It would protect him from whatever elements were outside. He slithered inside the “entrance” (which was only 3 feet by 3 feet), curled up into a corner, and fell asleep.

 

“What do you  _ mean _ , he’s dropped entirely off the grid?!” Gabriel screeched. He was five seconds away from strangling Sombra.

She flinched back, not in fear, but from the (admittedly impressively high) pitch he’d managed to hit. “Look, all I know is that he  _ somehow _ managed to use my teleporter to a random location. Because it hard to work so hard, it knocked every single back up I had offline. I can’t track him!”

“But you’re  _ literally _ connected to tech, why can’t you find him?!”

“Just because I’m  _ good _ with tech doesn’t mean I can do everything, Reyes,” she snapped, standing nose to nose with the larger man. After a moment of stare down, Gabriel relented, taking a couple steps back and sighing heavily. He was too tired, and panicking slightly.

“Well, tonight’s been… a helluva a thing.” The metallic hand put on his shoulder made him jump, but it stayed still. “Relax, Commander, it’s jus’ me,” McCree huffed in amusement.

Gabriel brushed his hand off, annoyed. “You don’t seem too shocked at me being alive,” he growled.

McCree shrugged. “Nah, yer guns an’ the way ya talk gave ya away  _ years _ ago. Not too ‘ard ta figure out it was you.” He gave Reyes a teasing look before it turned somber, looking forward.

Gabriel looked the same direction, surprised to see Sombra, D.VA, Zenyatta, and Winston huddled together and talking rapidly, with a lot of gestures.

McCree sighed heavily. “’M more shocked at how worried people’re ‘bout the old man. He’s…”

“A dick?”

“That’s puttin’ it nicely.”

They both chuckled, thought it died almost as soon as it came. “So… What do you plan on doin’ with ‘im?” McCree asked after a couple of moments.

Gabriel thought on it for a moment, before shrugging. “Honestly? I don’t know. Make sure he stays alive? Man’s obviously been trying to kill himself.”

McCree grunted in agreement, taking out a cigar and lighting it. “Just kinda a shame, yanno? To see ‘im go.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You were always soft. I’m not upset at the idea of him dying, just that I won’t be the one to do it.”

McCree raised an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me while I call bullshit.”

Gabriel glared at the cowboy, who didn’t move an inch. After a couple of moments, Gabriel sighed heavily. “You’re right.”

“I know I am.”

“I… I think I’m still…”

McCree nodded, patting Reyes’ shoulder. “I get it. You’ll have time to think it out before we find ‘im.”

Gabriel nodded, before sighing heavily, and shoving his hands into his pockets. He looked up after a moment, and they sat there in silence. It wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Like something needed to be spoken. And he knew what. He leaned over. “Look, Jesse I’m so-”

“What’s up guys!”

Both men yelled at the sudden appearance of a cyborg ninja sneaking up behind them. “God _ damn _ it, Genji!” They said together, perfectly in sync.

The cyborg laughed, doubling over. “Holy shit, I got you good.” He continued to cackle, unperturbed by the death glare he was receiving. “You did it together and  _ everything _ , oh god, I hope I have that recorded.”

“Jesus Christ, Genji, this is serious!” McCree grumbled, grabbing his hat and throwing it at the ninja. “Jack’s gone missin’,  _ again _ , and yer playin’ jokes!”

The cyborg shrugged. “What? It isn’t like it’s the first time we’ve had to hunt them down.”

“I know but…”

“Wait, so he’s done this since the Recall?” Gabriel asked, feeling a sudden spike of worry.

Genji sobered quickly, and he and McCree shared a look. “Well… yes… and before the HQ.”

One of Gabriel’s eyebrows tried to join his hairline. No, Jack would’ve grown out of that… right?

McCree and Genji shared an awkward look before the cyborg took in a large breath. “Ok, so there were many times were Morrison would just… go. Out. And no one would know where. Ana was the one that would bring him back, but after her…” He gestured widely, obviously feeling uncomfortable with saying the words.

“Supposed death,” Gabriel helped.

“Yes,” Genji said, “exactly. So after that, Morrison got worse. He’d leave once a month, and be gone for days. He’d eventually return, bloodied and looking like he picked a fight with a gang of elephants. And he always lied about what happened.”

“Didn’t ‘e one time say he fell down a waterin’ hole?” McCree chimed in.

“Yea, he did!” Genji replied, a tinge of humor in his voice, before shaking his head and continuing. “Anyways, so we’d end up go looking for him after two days. Turns out, he’d get out of his Strike-Commander uniform off base, get just… shit faced, go pick a fight, and then find a hole to curl up in. I wish I was kidding.”

“Had to tear more guys off him than I ever wanted to.” McCree sounded… distant for a second before snapping out of it. “Look, needless to say, this isn’t unusual, we’ll find him.”

“He did that whenever he could in SEP too, and the war. Wait, if this happened before the collapse, why wasn’t I made aware?” Gabriel felt betrayed, but mostly confused. He was their Commander, and technically, on the same level as Jack. He  _ should’ve _ been notified.

Genji managed to look a little guilty. “Well, it’s because it fell into a… gray area. No Overwatch wanted to see Morrison like that, and most Blackwatch was either Talon or at least wanted Morrison dead at the time. We were the best options.”

“What do you mean,  _ best options _ ?” Gabriel repeated, sceptically.

“Well… How do I say this…” Genji looked like he was having a programing issue.

“We were the only people capable enough and with a vague enough respect for Jack to not kill ‘im. Now, from what we can gather, he’d do this after a round with you or the UN. Seemed to feel like he couldn’t win. Like anything he did ended up with it all fallin’ faster and faster below ‘im. By the explosion, he was actually supposed to head out on indefinite leave,” McCree finished.

Gabriel’s other eyebrow joined the first in trying to reach his hair. “You’re joking.”

“Serious, jefe,” McCree said, looking him dead in the eye. “Literally, the papers were being sent to you about that when it all went to shit. Morrison was on his way out to retirement, and maybe to an early grave.”

“Wait, wait wait wait…” Gabriel felt ill. He didn’t like the “early grave” bit. “What do you mean,  _ early grave _ ?”

Genji shrugged. “Just that. We thought maybe he had some assassins on him, but ended up guessing it was that he was going to commit suicide.”

“He actually had a sniper on him.”

The three men jumped at Moira entering the conversation.

“I thought you were going to stay in the car?” Gabriel accused.

The woman waved her hand. “I felt you needed to know anything I do about Jack Morrison. But a sniper was trained on him. As he left the building, he was going to have his head blown off. End of story.”

If he didn’t feel ill before hand, he certainly did now. A sniper. An actual  _ sniper _ , just so they could… what, exactly?

“Why would Talon need Morrison dead, if he was leaving?” McCree asked. Gabriel was internally thankful he and McCree did think a lot alike more often than not.

Moira shrugged. “I have no clue.”

“Liar,” Genji hissed, staring her down.

The geneticist looked between the three of them for a moment before sighing. “Alright, fine. I know. But I’ll need Sombra to help me out.”

“Alright.” Gabriel shifted his stance. He didn’t like the idea of the hacker helping, but he needed to know.

“Sombra!” Moira yelled across the dock.

The hacker looked at her group, before sighing and jogging over. “What?”

“Can you pull up file 0765482?”

The hacker gave her an odd look, but did so. It was met with a password lock. “I can hack past this easily-”

“It’s fine,” Moira cut her off, quickly entering in the password.

Gabriel looked around them. It was surprising to see how many people had joined up on this mission. Actually, he noticed that the only members of the team that weren’t there were their hire-outs. Interesting.

Sombra flicked her hand, making a ring of screens appeared. They cast everyone and some of the dock in an eerie light. “Ok, so! Moira, take it away.”

“Thank you, Sombra.” The light made the harsh angles on the geneticist stand out far more. She started. “My parents actually worked on the Soldier Enhancement Program-”

“Explains why I was easy to work on, then,” Gabriel grumbled, earning him a swift slap to the side from Genji and Mercy.

“- and as we know, very few soldiers survived. It was never fully discovered  _ why _ , but no one cared. They had their Captain Americas.” Moira rolled her eyes, tapping a button, and making reports show up.

Gabriel quickly scanned them. He remembered these. He and Jack would spent hours looking through them, trying to piece together what they were and what they meant, before giving up and… usually having sex, if he was to be honest. Really good sex, that- not a good time, he told himself.

“But after the war, the UN basically wanted trophies, in the nicest sense. Their victories. Their honor. The heroes of mankind.” Moira rolled her eyes again, this time so hard, Reyes was worried they would completely roll into her head. “And what’s better to use than their two highest and brightest?”

A letter, or, series of, popped onto screen. The first one made Gabriel’s heart drop.

“If you’ll take even a second to read the first one, you’ll see that Reyes was supposed to be Strike-Commander.”

“Wait, hold up,” Tracer butted in. “If Gabriel was supposed to be Strike-Commander, why’d Jack get the job instead? I mean… admittedly, Gabe’s good at his job, but he’s…”

“Flamboyant?” Widow suggested.

“Yea… that’s… putting it mildly,” Tracer said. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Gabriel assured, a little distracted. He flicked that first letter aside and read the next few. “Actually, looking through these, it seems like I was in the running for a while. Until literally the day of the ceremony. What changed?”

Moira’s eyes turned sharp, like the blades she used on him to turn him into a monster. “Talon got into the game,” she stated, her voice sounding like she was… actually angry. She opened a new letter. “A new member to the UN came in, and noticed that you were…”

“Easier to manipulate?” Genji suggested.

“More strong willed,” Tracer added.

“Better built?” Sombra joked.

“Had a more troubled past,” McCree said with finality. He had read a little ahead.

Gabriel looked back at his screen before returning his gaze to Moira, confused. “Wait, hold up. Half of this is dead wrong. Most of this seems to have been taken directly from Jack’s file.” He knew this because he’d  _ read _ Jack’s file. By using those bits from Jack’s, it had managed to demonize him in a way that he didn’t quite think possible. “Jack was the one that would always do this. I would have to  _ keep _ him from killing himself. He had a habit of running in blindly and not caring about his health until he was near dead..”

“Which, if you think about it, would make him a more viable candidate,” Moira interjected. “Someone who will blindly rush in to protect his country.”

Gabriel frowned. “No, the brass gave me command long before him  _ because _ he ran in blindly. In fact, most people didn’t want the bright blonde to take command, any and all polls that  _ weren’t _ fucked by the government said that.” So more blatant lies. Awesome.

Moira looked surprised, as if this information hadn’t been seen before (which wouldn’t surprise him), before accepting it. “In any case, they wanted Jack because they felt it would be easier to turn Overwatch against the world. Manipulate him. However, the UN that wasn’t under Talon control still wanted you to make sure he was safe. So, they gave Blackwatch to you. And you…” She looked impressed, looking over the newest report she showed. “You made it very difficult to get to Morrison, so I’ll give you credit, you did your job well. So, in light of that, Talon had to change tactics.”

“They had to go for the strongest,” McCree said darkly, the purple light from Sombra’s screens making his eyes seem darker than usual. Admittedly, he could get intimidating when he wanted. Reyes remembered multiple a time when he could just let a pissed off McCree into an interrogation room and have it out in under 20 minutes.

Moira had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Basically. They never expected Reyes to become the better candidate.”

“That’s  _ great _ and all,” D.VA snapped, “but what’s that gotta do with our AWOL soldier?”

“Talon couldn’t let their second greatest asset get away. They were about to take Morrison away before it was revealed he’d be retiring. Make it seem like Blackwatch’s doing.” Moira sneered, which told Reyes that as much of a psycho bitch she was, she still cared about Blackwatch. “So, they were set to have him killed.” She gave Reyes a hard look. “But you took that chance away. We had to take you out of rubble instead.”

Gabriel sighed heavily. So, that explained… well, nearly everything. “So now what?”

Everyone looked between them. The silence was tense and unsure.

“Unless I can track down which locater was used,” Sombra said after a moment, “I can’t do anything. We’d have to scatter across the globe to find him.”

“So that’s what we do,” Winston said. “As of currently, you four will help Overwatch. If you want to, of course.”

Widow, Sombra, Moira, and Gabriel shared a look. Would this be wise? They were silent for a couple of moments.

Finally, Gabriel shrugged. “I’m in.”

Sombra grinned, shrugging as well. “Eh, why not?”

“It’ll be something different to do,” Widow admitted.

Moira looked a little sceptical for a second before sighing heavily. “Fine, but don’t think I’ll grow to like any of you.” There was a trace of softness there, like she truly didn’t believe it herself.

“Who’ll lead, though?” Tracer asked.

Winston opened his mouth, before closing it, before opening it and closing it again, before thinking for a second. “Not me. I’d be useless tracking him down,” he admitted. He turned to look at Reyes.

He grinned at Genji and McCree. “Ready to find the old man again?”

Genji laughed, looking thoroughly amused (somehow), and McCree just smiled and shook his head, but shrugged and nodded a couple seconds later. Gabriel nodded. “I’ll lead, may as well.”

“Strike-Commander Reyes,” Ana joked from beside Sombra.

He would admit, he preened (“Stop being a peacock!” Mercy groaned). But it did sound good. “Alright, enough chit chat. Onto the ship, we’re headed back to base!”

A shocking amount of whoops went up into the air.

He watched as everyone boarded before his smile failed. Could he find Jack? He hoped so. Much as he would say he didn’t, he had to admit to himself…

He missed Jack Morrison a lot. He had married the idiot after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Know how at the start I said the writing would go up? Doesn't mean the story will.  
> Also, yea, shipping.  
> I like two grumpy old men who need to be locked in a storage closet for a couple of hours. Sue me.

**Author's Note:**

> Did ya make it? Do you think it's gonna get better? Leave your comments down below!  
> Oh, feel free to come bug me at my tumblr: http://audrey-lloyd.tumblr.com/  
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Spoiler: It doesn't.


End file.
